Perfection
by Holly Chase
Summary: Astoria Greengrass was perfect… and he would keep his grubby, broken hands away from her./ for symphonies of you's pairing request


**Perfection**

PAIRING ;; dracoastoria -  
PROMPTS ;; "Just coffee. Black - like my soul." -city of bones, cassandra  
clare - ribbon - rose petals - summer rain - tornado - umbrella – vision

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Draco closed the umbrella, he stepped towards the mansion. The summer rain was warm, but undeniably wet as it sprayed from the gutter against Draco's face.

"Hey," the door opened. Astoria stood by the frame, her slight figure concealed by dark robes, mourning robes. They faced each other in an awkward silence for a minute, before Astoria stepped from under the shelter into the rain.

She embraced Draco, burying her face into his shoulder. He liked the feeling of it there; she fit perfectly into the groove. Astoria was perfect. Even as she led him inside, hair darkened by water and green hair ribbon unravelling; Draco had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful.

He followed her blindly through the corridor, her slim hand grasping his with strength that he had not expected. She did not speak as they walked into the kitchen, instead perching on the counter-top and watching Draco.

"Daphne won't leave her room," her gaze was steady and Draco couldn't look away from the enchanting pale green, they were pure and calm and perfect. "She won't even let me inside," Astoria's brows creased and hurt flashed across her features; "Not even her own _sister_."

"She'll be fine," Draco said. He licked his lips that had become uncomfortably dry. Astoria's gaze locked him to the spot and Draco noticed that he seemed to be developing tunnel-vision because Astoria was all he could see.

"Draco?" Astoria looked puzzled. "Are you alright? Do you want some water? Blaise and Tracy should be here in a bit… Draco?"

"'M fine," Draco said. Her gaze was confused, but scathing; Astoria was a Slytherin after all.

Yes, she was a Slytherin. And that was all. Astoria Greengrass was the younger sister of his friend Daphne who'd had a breakdown and was the only reason he and Astoria had even got onto first name basis.

Astoria Greengrass was perfect… and he would keep his grubby, broken hands away from her.

.

"Do you want anything else," Astoria asked, her voice was soft; not with pity though. Draco liked that about her.

"Just coffee. Black – like my soul."

"Ah," Astoria tapped the kettle with her wand and sat down opposite him. "We're in that kind of mood, are we?"

"What kind of mood?" asked Draco, confused.

"The one where you can say something like that, and mean it," said Astoria tapping her wand. "If you want to talk about it…"

"About what?" Astoria raised an eyebrow.

"About your father's sentence… Azkaban, remember?"

"How can I forget?" Draco muttered, "With everyone reminding me. I don't need to talk about anything,"

"Okay," Astoria put a blue mug on a coaster in front of him, steam rose from the dark liquid and Draco held it in his hands, relishing in the warmth. The heat almost brought colour back to his skin. He took a sip, grimacing at the bitterness. Astoria smirked and stirred some cream onto her hot chocolate. "Thank you for helping, anyway."

Draco smiled; "It was nothing, Daphne is my friend – and no one was going to sit back and watch. You don't need to thank me."

And she didn't, when Astoria grinned back at him, her face glowing with happiness, it was all the thanks Draco needed. Nothing was more wonderful than the lit-up, heart-shaped face of Astoria Greengrass. All the more reason to shove a rift between the two of them. Draco was struck with horror at the thought; life without Astoria Greengrass… it wouldn't be worth living.

He was being selfish, and Draco knew it; but he couldn't walk away from Astoria yet, she was stitching up his heart with lavender perfume and ringing laughter and sparkling green eyes.

.

"I brought flowers," Draco said, awkwardly holding out the bunch of roses.

"They're beautiful," Astoria swooped them up, hugging them to her chest as she filled a ceramic blue and white vase with water. Some of the red petals fell from the bud. They floated in the water like little boats. Each one was a different shade from deep pink to wine red. Ripples carried the petal boats to the edge of the sink.

Astoria arranged the roses, carefully so that none were smushed together. Under her touch, the flowers bloomed out of the wrinkly folds. Each blossom spread wide; it was magic, but not the usual kind. "Why did you bring me flowers?"

Draco sat down, "I thought you might like them."

"I certainly do," agreed Astoria sitting next to him. "I love roses, they're such an amazing flower. And the _colours_: red, orange, yellow, even the whites, are so _vibrant_…" she smiled, a wistful edge playing about her lips. "And now I'm babbling."

"I think it's sweet," Draco said.

"_Sweet_? Now I'm flattered," Astoria folded her arms, kicking his shin playfully. "Being called 'sweet' is just every girls dream."

Draco shrugged; "I try,"

Astoria shook her head, smelt the roses briefly and grabbed a _Prophet_ from beside the bread board.

"There's been a hurricane in the Caribbean Islands," said Astoria. "They think it was caused by some rampaging horntails. Some have been spotted in that area."

"What's the difference between a tornado and a hurricane?" Draco asked, Astoria shot him a confused look.

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"I was just thinking…" said Draco.

"About," Astoria prompted, leaning forwards so that her dark hair fell from behind her ears and framed her eyes. Draco was mesmerized for a second. Astoria blinked her green eyes and slowly reached out with one hand. As she reached his, Draco unfurled his fingers and grasped hers.

Her skin was as pale as his, and as their eyes met, Draco leant in at the same time as Astoria did. Their lips met and it was fireworks and roses and perfection. Neither one of them closed their eyes; and Draco lost himself in green.

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_Fin._


End file.
